Episode 09, VS75 What Price Freedom
by Voyager Season 7.5
Summary: When Captain Janeway helped free the drones of Unimatrix Zero, she never dreamed what the consequences might be.


Episode 9  
  
What Price Freedom?  
by Christina  
Inspired by an original story by Yatokahc, Christina and anonymous  
  
Like Janet with Ethical Considerations, I found myself facing reality in this   
story. It is a story about the methods and motives of fanatics. Their motives   
only partially make sense to the intreprid crew of Voyager, and their methods   
become hypocritical. Writing the end was difficult: it was written in one world,   
and somewhere and somehow that world changed--giving this story even darker   
undertones.  
  
My editor, Rocky, has suggested from the beginning that the opening to Act 1   
rated a warning. Back in that other world, I did not think so. Now?  
  
There is a very short, but violent moment in the first couple of paragraphs of   
Act 1: it is not written out, the action takes place below our view, but it is   
there.  
  
  
Prologue  
The Past  
  
  
Kathryn Janeway leaned back in her chair and stared at her desk, the log she was   
working on forgotten for the moment.  
  
Had it just been over a month since Commander Chakotay had been brainwashed by   
Riley to save her Borg colony?  
  
The colony was an interesting development: Starfleet had thought a mass   
liberations of Borg-drones was impossible. Janeway chuckled bitterly. Too bad   
there was no way of telling Starfleet of their findings.  
  
A beep from her computer reminded her of the open log.  
  
"Computer, playback log."  
  
"Stardate 50770.3," her recorded voice said, "Commander Chakotay, despite his   
reservations about the Eromeans, has again met with their ambassador. I am   
beginning to agree with his objections. After three days, we're no closer to   
obtaining permission to mine for dilithium on the seventh planet. The   
Commander's last message was over an hour ago..." Whatever she was going to add   
was lost as her combadge chirped.  
  
"Captain," Ensign Kim said. "We are detecting weapon's fire in the capital." She   
stood quickly as he finished. "We have initiated return transport of the away   
team."  
  
"Report!" Alarm klaxons punctuated Kathryn Janeway's demand as she strode out of   
her ready room onto Voyager's bridge.  
  
"Sensors have detected three Eromean cruisers bearing one seven nine mark one   
three, heading directly toward us. Their weapons are powered and their shields   
are raised," Tuvok informed her as she made her way down to the command level of   
the bridge.  
  
"They are not answering hails, Captain." Harry looked up from his console,   
watching her as she moved to stand behind Tom at the helm.  
  
She glanced at Harry, nodded, then turned her attention to the main view screen.   
"On screen."  
  
Three Eromean warships loomed on the main view screen. Kathryn watched as the   
three black ships approached, an involuntary shudder traveling down her spine.  
  
"Ensign, is the entire away team aboard?" she asked without diverting her eyes   
from the main view screen.  
  
Harry checked the transport log. "Negative, Captain. Commander Chakotay was not   
beamed back. It's possible that the Commander's comm badge has been damaged.   
Attempting to locate any human lifesigns."  
  
"Captain, we will be in range of the Eromean ships in fifty two point three   
seconds." Kathryn glanced at Tuvok.   
  
"Acknowledged, Mister Tuvok. Ensign, any luck yet?" she pressed, returning her   
attention back to the main view screen.  
  
"No, Captain. Still scanning."  
  
"Lieutenant Paris, prepare to go to warp seven on my mark."  
  
"Aye, Captain." Tom guided his hands quickly and adeptly over the navigational   
console.  
  
"Thirty nine point zero five seconds," stated Tuvok with dispassionate accuracy.   
"Captain..."  
  
She once again turned to face her tactical officer, anticipating his forthcoming   
advice--advice that she didn't want to hear.  
  
"No, Tuvok," she interrupted.  
  
"Captain. we must consider..."  
  
She shook her head, looking directly at him. "No. I'm not leaving him here. If   
we don't get him back now, we never will." Tuvok was right; Voyager was no match   
for the three Eromean cruisers bearing down on them. However, Chakotay was still   
planetside, in all probability very seriously injured. She could not abandon him   
or any of her crew--not if he was still alive. And she had to believe that he   
was. "Ready forward phaser array."  
  
"I've found him, Captain!" Disquiet quickly overshadowed Harry's excitement.   
"Lifesigns are extremely faint. I almost missed him."  
  
*Bless you, Harry! Hang on, Chakotay.* "Lock on to his coordinates, and beam him   
directly to Sickbay. Bridge to Sickbay. Commander Chakotay is being beamed   
directly to you. Notify me as soon as you have him."  
  
"Acknowledged," replied the Doctor. Less than a second later came the words she   
so wanted to hear. "Sickbay to Bridge. We have him."  
  
"Raise shields!" Kathryn pushed all thoughts she had of Chakotay to the back of   
her mind, ignoring the overwhelming urge to run to Sickbay. She couldn't afford   
to dwell on him, on his condition; right now she had to get Voyager to safety.   
"Mister Paris, get us out of here, warp seven."  
  
"The Eromeans?" Janeway asked after Voyager jumped to warp, leaving the Eromeans   
behind.  
  
Harry smiled with relief. "They are not pursuing us."  
  
Finally, some good news, she thought as she tapped her combadge. "Janeway to   
Sickbay."  
  
"This is the Doctor."  
  
"What is Commander Chakotay's condition?"  
  
"Commander Chakotay is unconscious. He was shot with some sort of projectile   
weapon in the abdomen and groin. Once we stabilize him, we will be operating."  
  
Kathryn sank into her command chair. "I see." Her voiced dropped somewhat.   
"Thank you, Doctor. Keep me informed. Janeway out."  
  
#  
  
Chakotay knew he was dreaming, but he couldn't seem to wake himself up. The   
images crowding into his mind filled him with such complete horror that he felt   
physically ill, but he couldn't block them out. "Trefla, Trefla," the words   
repeated themselves over and over in whispered, voices while the images of men   
and women writhing in agony were everywhere he looked.  
  
Then the dream changed, and he seemed to be walking amongst them. Everywhere he   
went, they looked up at him with hatred in their eyes.  
  
"You could have stopped this," a woman's voice called to him bitterly. "Why   
wouldn't you help us?"  
  
He turned to where a woman sat on the ground. Her pox covered face, full of open   
open, oozing sores, almost hid the fractured remains of what could only be Borg   
implants. He involuntarily tapped the back of his own neck, where Riley had   
placed the neural link. Was this another example of her duplicity? The thought   
horrified him--he wanted to run away from the mysterious woman, from all things   
Borg. He started to turn away.  
  
Then he noticed the baby she held in her arms. Its entire body was also covered   
with the oozing lesions. It was crying weakly; but was obviously so sick that it   
had little energy to do even that.  
  
He knelt before the woman, forgetting his own fears. "I don't understand. How   
could I have prevented this?" He gestured with his hand as he looked around him.   
"Are you Borg?"  
  
The woman looked at him skeptically. "How can you pretend to be ignorant? You   
know what has happened!"  
  
Chakotay looked back at her. "Please, you must believe me, I don't know what you   
are talking about. If I could help, I would." He looked around and closed his   
eyes, trying to block out the sight of the tortured, twisted bodies. Chakotay   
opened his eyes and stared at her. "I don't even know who you are..." The vision   
started to blur and fade away.  
  
"Do not worry. You will know when you see," a new, feminine voice said softly,   
it was familiar yet not..  
  
The last sound he heard was the woman's voice pleading with him. "Please, you   
are our only hope...our only hope...our only hope."  
  
#  
  
Chakotay opened his eyes with the echo of the woman's words ringing in his mind.   
He knew immediately where he was. His body hurt all over, but his mind was   
clear. He had to help the Treflans. He didn't know how--and he didn't know   
when--but he just knew.  
  
Kes's hand rested on his forehead as she stared down at him. "Commander, you   
need to rest."  
  
"I must help them." He struggled to get the words out.  
  
"You will."   
  
"I will," Chakotay closed his eyes as he attempted to remember the dream.   
"Trefla."  
  
"Yes, the Trefla." Kes looked at him with a puzzled expression. "It was a   
dream."  
  
"I don't even know who they are. But I must..." He felt the sensation of a   
hypospray on his neck.  
  
"You need rest, Commander," Kes said with a whisper. She frowned as she   
straightened. "Trefla...Liberty."  
  
  
  
Act 1  
  
Season 7  
The Present  
  
They jumped as a unit, the remnants of their severed link with the Collective   
still enough to communicate amongst themselves silently. The lone Borg drone   
fell under the fury of their attack.  
  
There might have been a scream, but silence quickly returned as the first of the   
attacking ex-drones stood, holding the skin covered remains of an ocular   
implant. He smiled. Another stood holding yet another implant. Pox covered faces   
surrounded the ripped apart drone lying below.  
  
Since they'd achieved their independence from the Collective, the freed drones   
had worked to separate--or destroy--those drones who were still intact. Finesse   
was not an option. If the drones survived having their implants removed, they   
were further removed from the Collective--otherwise the dying drone was just one   
less threat to the freed .  
  
"Take him to the medical bay," a voice called out from behind the group. A woman   
entered, her body covered with the same sores that infected all the freed drones   
of the cube. "We must stop this," she said calmly. The younger, one-eyed blonde   
woman beside her nodded.  
  
"No Yersa, we cannot stop," the tall leader of the group shouted. "They will   
reassimilate us." He started to cough.  
  
Yersa held up her good hand. "Why are you doing this, Yith? So we can spread   
this plague to them? Doctor Miller says that ripping out the implants is causing   
the disease to spread. It must stop, or we will all die."  
  
There was a snort as three of the group members, including Yith, walked away,   
but the remaining two helped carry the still twitching drone.  
  
The medical bay was not impressive. Three humanoid males and one bald human   
female worked diligently with what they had to treat the injured. The female   
ordered two of her helpers to the far corner, before she turned.  
  
"This has got to stop!"  
  
"I know," Yersa said sadly as she looked around the room. They'd lost another   
hundred drones yesterday--and it looked like a similar number would be lost   
today. "But try explaining that to *them*." She glanced at the blonde woman   
beside her and sighed. "Cretia, see if you can arrange another meeting with the   
others. They have not even been willing to meet."  
  
"Assimilation is better than this." Dr. Miller shook her head as she did a   
visual examination of her newest patient. "He won't make it. Stick him over   
there."  
  
"Assimilation is not better. Death while free is better than death as a mindless   
slave," Yersa retorted.  
  
"Then do something to increase our chances of survival. If we can't save   
ourselves, what's the point?"  
  
"Freedom, Doctor Miller. It's all about freedom." She started to cough. Doctor   
Miller led her over to a counter with a makeshift sink. "Spend your time with   
those patients you can help," Yersa said as the coughing subsided.   
  
"You are the voice of sanity--they listen to you. You are the only one who can   
make them stop this madness."  
  
Yersa shook her head. "They don't listen like they used to. Perhaps they will   
listen to the one you can save instead of me."   
  
"Yersa, you are our best hope to convince them that they can't just rip out the   
implants. Bring the drones here. I can remove the implants aseptically. If they   
would stop destroying our supplies and equipment, we could survive this." Miller   
closed her eyes. "We cannot survive like this. Perhaps we could use your skills   
to convince them?"  
  
Yersa bowed her head sadly. "The Xellam are a telepathic race, but my gifts are   
only slowly coming back to me." Their eyes met. "If I used telepathic skills to   
control the others, would I become another Queen?"  
  
"Damned if you do. Damned if you don't." Miller waved a hand to indicate the   
dying ex-drones surrounding them. "What choice do we have?"  
  
"There is always another choice. We just have to find it." Yersa smiled as she   
felt a familiar tingle in her head. "Or perhaps help will find us."  
  
Doctor Miller's eyes opened wide. "The ship you dreamed about?"  
  
"Yes." Yersa had tried to use her telepathy skills many times to request help   
from any passing ships, but had been unsuccessful, until one night just a few   
days ago when a kindly presence had guided her on her quest.  
  
But to her bitter disappointment, the ship she'd contacted had been in the past.  
  
"Yersa! There's a ship on the scanners!" She glanced across the room, saw one of   
the crew waving at her. She placed a hand on Dr. Miller's shoulder.  
  
"I'll be fine." She knew better--and she knew Miller knew better. Yet, she felt   
the spirit's presence and wondered.  
  
#  
  
"What the...?" Captain Kathryn Janeway's voice trailed off as she stepped onto   
the bridge and saw the image on the screen.  
  
The giant cube looked dead or dying: large gaping holes covered the surface. She   
glanced quickly at Harry. "What's the cube's status, Lieutenant?"  
  
"Sensors show fewer than twenty-three-thousand life signs on board. There is too   
much interference for the sensors to give a precise count."  
  
"Weapon status?"  
  
Harry shook his head as he finished his report. "The cube has minimal   
weapons--and even those are questionable."  
  
She nodded as she moved to the command chair. "Maintain red alert." She tapped   
her combadge. "Janeway to Seven of Nine."  
  
"I am studying the sensor scans," Seven's voice said. "There should be over a   
hundred thousand drones on a vessel that size."  
  
Definitely something wrong, Kathryn decided. Possibly something like what   
happened to the ship Icheb and the other children had been rescued from--or...  
  
"Modify the sensors to detect the virus we introduced to the Borg, and scan for   
other Borg ships. I want continuous monitoring of all known Borg frequencies   
too." She wondered if the Borg Queen could think in terms of baiting a trap with   
a severely damaged ship.  
  
"Captain, we're being hailed." She didn't glance behind her as the rest of her   
command staff arrived. The crippled interior of the cube appeared on the screen.   
She tried not to stare at the grotesque sores on the woman who appeared.  
  
"I'm Yersa." The woman's eyes focused on Chakotay. "May the ancestors be   
praised, you've come."  
  
"I'm Captain Janeway. How may we be of assistance?" She couldn't help but wonder   
how Yersa could be expecting them.  
  
"Now that you are here, we need supplies and medicine. We especially need   
medical help." Yersa glanced at Janeway, then returned her focus to Chakotay.   
Janeway wondered at the puzzled look on her First Officer's face. He shrugged   
when he noticed her scrutiny. Janeway shook her head; somehow Yersa and Chakotay   
seemed to know each other. She would search for the answer later, but right now   
she needed to deal with the Trefla. Yersa must have seen the interchange, for   
she brought her attention back to Janeway. "Captain Janeway, whatever assistance   
you can offer will be appreciated."  
  
Janeway decided to send the Doctor only. She wasn't sure about sending her crew,   
until she knew they would be safe. "Our Doctor will beam over to make a medical   
assessment." And to see what supplies Yersa and company needed. Voyager's own   
supplies were limited,.  
  
"Thank you." Yersa's smile barely carried through the sores on her face.  
  
#   
  
Voyager's Emergency Medical Hologram glanced around the Borg ship, amazed at the   
amount of damage he saw. It looked like the ship was being systematically torn   
apart. He used the tricorder to analyze the partially destroyed regeneration   
chambers he passed.  
  
"Hello," a voice said from behind him. "Welcome to the Trefla." He turned to   
face a young human woman, in her mid twenties. She might have been pretty,   
except for the sores covering her face, and the fact she was missing her left   
eye. What was left of her Borg armor was riddled with holes and cracks. "I'm   
Cretia Finney."  
  
"Hello, Cretia," the doctor responded. He scanned her with his tricorder. A   
large number of bacteria, other microscopic organisms, and several viruses had   
infected her. None were the virus he'd created. At least not in her. Those   
viruses were on the ship--and were somehow responsible for the ship becoming   
disconnected from the Collective. "Are all the crew members like this?" He   
continued to analyze the data coming from his tricorder. As a physician, he had   
to help them.  
  
She nodded. "The deassimilation process is rough." He again wondered at the lack   
of an eye and the number of inoperative nanoprobes in her system.  
  
"What do they do, rip out all the Borg implants?"  
  
She nodded again. "It is effective. The Medical Bay is this way."  
  
He followed, noting that the tricorder showed she still maintained a few Borg   
implants. "Yet, you still have..."  
  
She stopped. "Shhh. They are removing the external implants." She indicated her   
eye. "They will eventually try to remove the internal ones...they will kill us   
all."  
  
"But even with the implants, you would still be individuals. We have freed   
several drones and we have met a colony that managed to free themselves   
before...Well," he decided that this was most not a good place to tell Riley's   
story. "The implants do not hinder individuality, and they keep you alive and   
healthy."  
  
"They are Borg." She spread her hands slightly.  
  
"But why? Don't you understand that this could kill you? That your nanoprobes   
could save you?" He again looked at his tricorder. Most of her nanoprobes were   
inactive. It was also obvious that she had not regenerated for a long time. Too   
long, maybe. The nanoprobes were dying.  
  
"They fear reassimilation more than they fear dying." Cretia motioned for him to   
follow her.  
  
"And how many hours do you spend regenerating?" He expected her answer.  
  
"Doctor, look around. They've taken to destroying the regeneration units. There   
are less than two-dozen working chambers left."  
  
"They?" The Doctor shook his head in frustration, even as he began to process   
the data the tricorder gave him. Treating the infection wouldn't be difficult;   
however, repairing the damage would take a monstrous effort on his part and his   
able staff.  
  
"Those who want nothing to do with anything Borg." She glanced around. "They've   
even tried to destroy the ship." She pointed to the armed guard who stood   
outside the medical bay. "We have to protect vital systems now."  
  
"And what do you want?"  
  
He supposed she smiled sadly, it was hard to tell. "I want to live." They passed   
another row of destroyed regeneration units.  
  
"How long ago were you freed?"  
  
"How long since we lost our connection to the Borg?" She puzzled over this a   
second. "A few, like Yersa, found themselves freed from the Collective about six   
months ago. She and the others freed the rest of us. The disease first appeared   
soon afterwards."  
  
His eyes opened wide as they stepped into the medical bay. Six months ago was   
about when they'd introduced the virus into the Collective. It had to be more   
than a coincidence--someone--Yersa maybe--had been a member of Unimatrix Zero.   
But this wasn't the end result he'd planned on.  
  
But then, perhaps he should have expected such an outcome. As the former drones   
had no concept of anything but total control, the sudden freedom would be   
strange, scary. No wonder anarchy ruled here. He wondered how they'd survived   
the six months.  
  
"Hello, I'm Doctor Miller." The tall, older woman shook his hand. Like the   
others in the medical bay, she was marked by the same plague that afflicted   
Cretia.  
  
"This is terrible," he said.  
  
"I know," Miller said angrily. "We lose over one hundred patients a day."  
  
"One hundred?" The figure was appalling. A quick glance around the large hall   
showed that there were at least five times that number lying on the floor.  
  
She shook her head. "We've tried to save them, but we're all dying." She held up   
her left hand. The fingers were gone. He scanned her quickly with a tricorder,   
then moved to the first patient.  
  
"You need to repair the regeneration units. And if we could reintroduce viable   
nanoprobes..." To himself he added, 'even Seven still needs to regenerate at   
least once a week...'  
  
"No!" A blue-green humanoid male staggered in front of the Doctor. "We will not   
allow ourselves to be saved by anything Borg."  
  
"Then you are a fool," the Doctor said. "The Borg systems can help maintain your   
health. Voyager has drones freed from the Collective. And their health is   
excellent." The blue-green male glared at him, but the Doctor continued to   
examine the patients. "Do you have any antibiotics?"  
  
Dr. Miller shook her head. "This idiot destroyed our replicator units."  
  
The blue-green male snarled, "We must leave nothing that can be used to contact   
the Collective or reassimilate us."  
  
"At this point, "I don't think they'd want you." the Doctor said as he finished   
his scans. "Is everyone on board, disconnected?"  
  
Miller glared at the blue-green male. "We are, I believe, all disconnected from   
the Collective, but a few still retain all their implants. There aren't many and   
they usually stay away. Most are found in the lower levels. Ehop'n here, along   
with his leader, Yith, have terrified them to the point that they rarely leave   
their hide-aways. Those who tried to join us were destroyed. They don't bother   
with us, except to defend their regeneration units." She sighed. "They are also   
dying. Just not as quickly."  
  
"We need to destroy all Borg," the blue-green male started coughing violently.   
Miller helped him lie down, then returned to the Doctor.  
  
"There's not much I can do when the lungs are infected, except comfort him.   
It'll be over soon."  
  
"Over soon? You can't just let them die!" The Doctor stared at her, aghast at   
her words.  
  
"I have no choice. We have no medicine, little food and even less water," Miller   
said angrily. "We try to make their last hours as comfortable as possible."  
  
"I'll see what we can do." He tapped his combadge. "Doctor to Voyager."  
  
"Yes, Doctor?" Janeway's voice asked.  
  
"They are dying. I am going to need a medical team and unlimited access to the   
replicators if I am going to be able to save them."  
  
"Understood. What do you need?"  
  
"I'm Doctor Eugenie Miller, "Doctor Miller cut in. "Food, water, medicine,   
clothes, blankets," "You name it, we need it.  
  
"I'll see what we can do. Can we safely send an away team?" Captain Janeway   
asked.  
  
"I would like to prepare a vaccine for all crew members--just as an appropriate   
preventative measure. Treating the infection isn't the problem," the Doctor   
said. "I shall transport back to Voyager in ten minutes. In the meantime, they   
are in desperate need of water and food."  
  
Janeway nodded. "Doctor Miller, what happened?"  
  
"It's really a long tale, Captain." The female doctor glanced over her shoulder.   
"Yersa should tell you our story." She motioned for someone to join them. The   
female who'd originally contacted them appeared.  
  
"I wish to thank you," Yersa started to cough violently. She pushed Miller's   
helping hand away. "About six months ago some of us were suddenly disconnected   
from the Collective. We managed to sever our link completely, then started to   
deassimilate the other drones on the ship. Back then we were able to cooperate   
amongst ourselves, find food, even find help from those whom the word Borg did   
not terrify. Originally all we did was destroy the neural link. Then somewhere   
along the line, we found it easier to rip out the implants. May my ancestors   
forgive me, I also once believed this was the best way."  
  
"Then the epidemic began," Doctor Miller continued when Yersa started coughing   
again. The EMH scanned Yersa. "At first it was treatable; our nanoprobes were   
able to keep us healthy. Then about three months ago, we tried to ask for help   
from species 3621--the Cabal. We were refused; and they attacked us. The   
radiation from their weapons accelerated the disease while it weakened us. The   
nanoprobes were also affected. Since then--" She motioned toward her face. "This   
past week we've only lost a hundred a day. The death toll has been as high as a   
thousand a day."  
  
Janeway grimaced. "Doctor Miller, our own supplies are limited, but we will   
offer what we can."  
  
"Captain," the EMH interjected, "I'd like to request that Icheb help me. His   
skills in bioengineering and genetics will be very useful."  
  
"I'll inform him."  
  
"I've transmitted the data to sickbay. I can treat the infection, but we don't   
have the resources to repair the damage." He glanced around the medical bay. The   
logistics of administering the antibiotics alone would be daunting.  
  
Dr. Miller looked away. "I feel helpless. What little I had to help my people   
was destroyed because it was Borg."  
  
"Well," he whispered after making sure that no one was nearby. "Icheb and Seven   
are both former Borg, so you will be saved by Borg help."  
  
"Just don't let anyone know," Cretia said. The EMH turned to face her. "I'm   
sorry, I didn't mean to sneak up on you. I've spoken to Yith. He's agreed to   
meet with Yersa and Voyager's Doctor. I'm to arrange a time." She smiled at the   
Doctor. "Just don't mention that you have Borg on Voyager."  
  
"Who is this Yith?" The EMH asked.  
  
"He is a Toscarian and one of the leaders of the anti-Borg faction."  
  
"We are willing to help..."  
  
"And he's willing to kill." Cretia shook her head. "Don't trust him, because he   
surely won't trust you."  
  
"Well," the EMH said, "perhaps we should trust him, so he will trust us."  
  
"Doctor," Cretia said, then shook her head. "You just don't understand our   
situation here. We were Borg, the Queen will not let us go so easily. Yith   
believes that only by eliminating everything Borg can we truly be free."  
  
#  
  
Chakotay stared at the akoonah in front of him, thinking of the Trefla and   
Yersa. Somehow she had recognized him, and as he stood on the bridge he had   
recalled a dream: a barely remembered dream. The images flitted about in his   
mind, but he could only truly remember the word Trefla and Yersa's face. And   
someone else, someone ethereal yet familiar.  
  
He closed his eyes as he placed his hand on the akoonah, hoping to return to   
that dream from long ago. A sharp sound interrupted any chance to contact his   
spirit guide. He tapped his combadge. "Chakotay here."  
  
"Commander," Harry's voice said, "The Doctor has returned to Voyager. He wants   
to meet with the senior staff immediately."  
  
Chakotay gathered his medicine bundle, then stood and grabbed his jacket as he   
acknowledged the request.  
  
#  
  
Chakotay stood next to Janeway as they waited for the Doctor to arrive. "It's   
pretty bad," she whispered. "The Doctor thinks our virus is what initially   
severed their link to the Collective. This isn't what we'd planned to happen."  
  
He replied in a equally quiet voice. "We only found a way to break their link.   
The Treflans made the choice to continue destroying all things Borg--they knew   
the consequences. But with hindsight, perhaps we should have known that freedom   
would not be easy for former drones."  
  
"So we should not have done anything at all? I felt then, and still feel now,   
that we had an obligation to help them break free of the Collective." She   
sighed. "Just as we have an obligation to try to help them now, even though we   
can't possibly give them all of the help they need."  
  
"I know. We all know. We'll offer what we can." He smiled at her.  
  
She took a deep breath. "The numbers of dead and dying are horrific, but the   
Doctor is confident he has found the cure."  
  
Chakotay nodded. The Doctor was always confident he could find an answer--and he   
usually did.  
  
"The Doctor is preparing a vaccine against this plague for the crew. I'll lead   
the first team."  
  
"I'll lead the first team," Chakotay countered. "It's my duty to lead away   
missions and to protect the ship's captain from any potentially hazardous   
situations." Even if he had to protect her from herself, he added to himself.  
  
"Commander, this subject is not open to debate."  
  
He grinned at her. "Excellent, Captain. I'm glad you see it my way." He walked   
away quickly to where Tom and B'Elanna were standing, pleased that for once he'd   
managed to get the last word in.  
  
#  
  
"The infection rate of those who have been *deassimilated* is one-hundred   
percent," the Doctor said as he concluded his opening remarks. "Icheb is   
preparing the antibiotics. The most effective method of dispersion is to use the   
environmental controls. Dr. Miller and Yersa have agreed to this. As to treating   
the damage...Since the most effective treatment, nanoprobes, is out of the   
question, Icheb and I are working to determine any alternatives. The damage from   
their deassimilation process is extensive. They are destroying themselves. Many   
have missing eyes and fingers. Some have missing limbs." He glanced at Seven.   
"And most have not regenerated in weeks or longer."  
  
"Doctor, we just don't have the resources," Janeway started to say, he cut her   
off.  
  
"We don't. But, while they have destroyed most of the regeneration chambers and   
other equipment--the damage may only be superficial."  
  
B'Elanna nodded. "I've looked through the Doctor's report, and I believe he is   
correct. Most of the internal structure and wiring may still be intact.   
Permission to beam over.?" The entire staff looked at her and Tom.  
  
"I don't believe that would be wise," the Doctor said. "Lieutenant, you are four   
months pregnant. While the vaccine I am perfecting will be effective, I do not   
know if it will protect your baby. And Lieutenant Torres, do I need to remind   
you, that the same reasoning is behind my refusal to inoculate you with the   
anti-assimilation vaccine"  
  
She grimaced, while Tom smiled his thanks.  
  
Janeway raised her hand. "We'll send three teams--five people each. Commander   
Chakotay will have overall command, the Doctor, and Lieutenant Carey will   
accompany him, along with a team of engineers and security. I want everyone   
monitored at all times for any sign of infection. Meet in transporter room one   
in an hour."  
  
Act 2  
  
  
"Captain."  
  
"Commander?" He'd expected the formal tones of her voice, but he wasn't going to   
argue. He'd won this round, and she was not pleased.  
  
"The Trefla." He grimaced as remembered something. "I know the name from   
something. A dream long ago. We were negotiating with the Eromeans. You   
remember?"  
  
"The Eromeans." She placed a hand on his arm. "You were in and out of a coma for   
four days."  
  
"I had the strangest dream." He nodded toward the viewport. "At least I'd always   
thought it was a dream. In fact, until I saw Yersa on that ship, I'd almost   
forgotten it."  
  
"Yes, I vaguely recall Kes telling me something about your dream. But that was   
four years ago..."   
  
"I know. Don't ask, because I don't know how any of this is possible, but Yersa   
was in my dream. I'm sure it was her."  
  
She smiled at him. "Kes sensed some of your vision. She asked me to help the   
Trefla. Though someday you'll have to explain the time discrepancy."  
  
"I will when I figure it out myself. I promised I would help them." His voice   
faded.  
  
She placed her hand on his arm. "And we shall help them."   
  
He smiled as he took her hand in his. She pulled her hand away without looking   
at him. "You need to get going. I expect hourly reports. If there is any chance   
of our people becoming sick, we'll beam them out."  
  
"Very good, Captain." He smiled at her.  
  
"And our newest crewmembers?"  
  
"Both Cadet Icheb and Cadet Wildman have been assigned duties. Naomi has   
requested a secondary posting to the medical bay."  
  
"Interesting," Janeway said with a raised eyebrow.  
  
"Naomi apparently feels she needs more practical experience." Chakotay winked.  
  
Janeway chuckled, as he continued. "Has Seven said anything about the commission   
you offered?  
  
"No. Or rather not yet. I don't understand her hesitancy. She's already in   
charge of astrometrics, giving her the rank of Lieutenant j.g. is almost just a   
formality."  
  
Chakotay shrugged. "It's a big step. She'll come around."  
  
"I hope so," she responded. Seven had the potential to be a very good officer,   
Chakotay admitted to himself--especially once she learned how to obey commands.   
"Don't you have a mission?"  
  
"Aye, Captain." He winked. "Perhaps you'll have the carpets cleaned?"  
  
She hit his arm playfully as she laughed. "That's your job, Mister. Now get out   
of here, before I change my mind." Chakotay walked quickly down the door.  
  
She watched him leave, then stared out the transparisteel viewport at the   
listless cube beside them.  
  
#  
  
"Seven," Chakotay said after Seven stated her request to join his team, "it's   
not safe on the Trefla." He had to admit in her blue uniform, the future   
lieutenant j.g. looked professional...It was somehow still difficult to   
contemplate the former Borg as a Starfleet officer.  
  
"Commander, the Doctor has assured me that the vaccine will protect me against   
the plague."  
  
"I'm talking about those on the cube who would rather rip you apart."  
  
"You need someone healthy, who is familiar with the workings of a Borg cube.   
Captain Janeway suggested I ask to join your away team." Chakotay hesitated. She   
had an excellent point. Seven's knowledge about the workings of a Borg cube   
would be very useful.  
  
"Very well." He glanced at Ayala. "Lieutenant. I want a security officer with   
her at all times."  
  
"Very good, sir." Ayala quickly notified the young crewman on his right of his   
new duties.  
  
#  
  
Chakotay had read the reports and seen the images, but he nearly vomited at the   
sight and smell of the medical bay. He noticed most of the away team members   
were also pale.  
  
"I'm Doctor Miller," the approaching bald woman said. "I can't begin to tell you   
how grateful we are for your help."  
  
"Then we should get started." Chakotay hoped getting to work would help calm his   
stomach. "Lieutenant Carey and..."  
  
"BORG!" someone shouted. The team members glanced around quickly.  
  
"Yith, lie down," Miller said. "You need to rest."  
  
"She's Borg!" Yith replied. He collapsed as he tried to stand up.  
  
Chakotay glanced at Seven then at the hundreds of patients lying around him.   
"Seven was freed from the Collective over three years ago. Since that time she   
has been instrumental in helping us beat the Collective several times."  
  
"She might be better off on Voyager," Dr. Miller said. "Yith's attitude is   
shared by many."  
  
"No," Seven said. "I have to help." Chakotay stared at her for a second, but   
Seven didn't say anything more.  
  
"She is here to help restore the ship so that it can support you." He glanced   
back at the patients. "I know that for many of you, anything Borg is evil. I   
understand how you feel, but you must decide if you want to live or die." He   
returned his attention to Miller. "Dr. Miller, our own doctor will transport   
over in a few minutes with his team. He will assist you in dispersing the   
antibiotics. Now, we will get to work." He ordered the engineering team to   
follow Seven to the central processing unit. They needed to know how damaged   
that was, before they could determine how much of the ship could be saved.  
  
Miller smiled. "Thank you. There is someone who would like to meet you."  
  
"Yersa?" He wondered again about the barely remembered dream from so long ago.  
  
"Yes." Miller motioned for him to follow her. Yersa opened her eyes as they   
approached.  
  
Chakotay knelt down by the prone figure on the floor. "Yersa, I came. I promised   
I would."  
  
"I knew you would," she choked out. "You are a good person. The spirit was   
right."  
  
"Spirit?"  
  
"The one who guided me to you." He could barely hear her voice. "I'm a telepath,   
but for days I couldn't contact anyone. The spirit told me you would help,   
despite the fact you were in the past." Her eyes closed. He stood slowly.  
  
"She tried too hard to bring the Trefla back to some semblance of sanity,"   
Miller said.  
  
"She's dying?"  
  
"We all are, unless you can help us. I fear what will happen when she dies. Yith   
and his allies would rather die than associate with anything Borg. They'll kill   
us all."  
  
"How many dissidents are there?"  
  
"No one knows for sure. A hundred, maybe a thousand. Your Seven had better be   
careful." She raised her hand. "Ahh, Cretia. This is Commander Chakotay."  
  
The new arrival smiled at him. "I'm Cretia Finney. I work with Yersa." She   
glanced at Doctor Miller. "I can't find any of Yith's people. Since he   
collapsed, they've vanished."  
  
"Cretia," Dr. Miller explained, "had arranged a meeting between Yith, Yersa and   
your doctor."  
  
"I see. Any chance..."  
  
"Not with Yith's people. At least not right now." Cretia placed a hand on   
Chakotay's arm. "But the governing body would like to meet with you."  
  
"There is a government?"  
  
"Not really," Cretia said as they started to wend their way through the many   
patients. "It has no real power. No one wants to make any real decisions. They   
provide support to protect vital systems, but that's all."  
  
"Vital systems?"  
  
"Environmental systems, replicators--except those were destroyed three point two   
weeks ago. Yith's followers have since targeted internal sensors and the main   
controls. We've barely managed to maintain a security force. I fear the   
government will fall apart without Yersa. She's the only one both sides   
trusted."  
  
"She's not dead yet." Chakotay hoped that the antibiotics would be enough to   
save her, that it wasn't too late for her. "Our Doctor is providing antibiotics.   
He's..."  
  
  
Cretia shook her head. "Once the coughing begins, death happens within hours."  
  
"And you will continue to try to find Yith's people?" Chakotay brought the   
conversation back to what needed to be done.  
  
"Of course, Commander Chakotay. With their cooperation, perhaps we can end this   
chaos and destruction."  
  
#  
  
Neelix frowned as he beamed over with the supplies. He'd volunteered to help   
with the supplies and medical supplies. He glanced around the Borg medical bay,   
and gagged. He remembered the devastation of his own home, Rinax, years ago.  
  
"Mister Neelix," the Doctor said. "If you are going to be sick all over the   
place, I shall arrange for you to be transported back to Voyager."  
  
"I'll be fine," Neelix said. He forced himself to concentrate on helping the   
patients and not what they looked and smelled like. He pulled out his tricorder   
as he knelt beside a small humanoid alien.  
  
The pale green alien grunted and groaned, but didn't open his eyes..  
  
Neelix wished he truly believed that they would be able to save everyone, as he   
turned to scan the next patient. He stared at her for a second, then placed his   
fingers on her neck. He shook his head sadly as the tricorder told him what he   
already knew.  
  
"So much waste and sadness," a voice said from behind him.  
  
"Yes, it is." Neelix glanced behind him as he stood. "I'm Neelix. You're..."  
  
"I am Sarexa." The Talaxian female frowned at him. Neelix smiled, he hadn't seen   
a fellow Talaxian in too long. Her expression remained guarded as he stood.  
  
"You are a long way from home," he said.  
  
"I have no memories of Talaxia. Your Doctor said you were a cook?"  
  
Neelix nodded. "I'm cook, morale officer, ambassador, agriculturist...medical   
assistant."  
  
"He suggested that we talk with you about feeding the survivors. Any ideas?"  
  
Cooking for about 150 had been challenging, but he'd never tried cooking for   
over 200 times that amount. He again glanced around the medical bay, then at the   
very skinny Talaxian female in front of him. "We have to keep the meals simple,   
a broth maybe. What food stuffs do you have?"  
  
"A few containers, it's not much."  
  
"And replicators?"  
  
"Damaged, though perhaps not beyond repair. Your engineer seems to think they   
may be repairable."  
  
"Excellent, excellent." He quickly calculated just how much food stuff he would   
need. "But perhaps we should first inject you?" He held up the hypospray. She   
took two steps back, a look of panic on her face.  
  
"Is it Borg?"  
  
"No, it is Starfleet technology. It's just some basic minerals and vitamins."  
  
"Good." She bent her neck so he could administer the medication. "Now, I shall   
take you to our replicators."  
  
#  
  
Icheb glanced quickly at the sickbay door as it opened. The visitor was Naomi.   
"I'm sorry." He'd forgotten about their study session.  
  
"That's OK," she replied. "You're busy. Any luck?"  
  
He shook his head. "Not really."  
  
"Can I help?"  
  
As much as he enjoyed her company, Icheb didn't want her exposed to the   
pathogens. The Doctor had inoculated him against the plague, and he was working   
behind a level 10 bio-force field. He noticed her annoyed look. He wondered how   
he'd upset her this time. "I have had to neglect my duties in astrometrics."  
  
She smiled at him. "Sure thing. You are still trying to incorporate the Zornon   
tech that Lieutenant Torres was working on?"  
  
"The polar divergence is too great." He entered some numbers into his PADD. The   
Zornon tech was one of several projects he'd had to neglect recently.  
  
She chuckled. "Icheb, you could just say it doesn't fit."  
  
He grinned at her. "It's more complicated than that."  
  
"I'll see what I can do."  
  
He heard her mumble something else as she left. The numbers didn't show much   
promise. Icheb stared at them a second, then contacted the EMH over on the   
Trefla.  
  
The Doctor responded quickly. Icheb quickly explained the negative results.   
Without using the nanoprobes, there weren't many expedient ways to generate new   
tissue. There was a silence, then the Doctor spoke. "I expected this. Access the   
databank on the Vidiians. File name Pel. I have never fully indexed it. She once   
assisted us with another medical mystery."  
  
Icheb nodded. He didn't know the file or the name Pel, but he did know about the   
Vidiians. Perhaps Naomi could help him with this project. The Doctor continued   
speaking. "The Vidiians did some remarkable medical research--for the wrong   
reasons. They have extensive knowledge on tissue and organ transplants and   
repair."  
  
Icheb activated the computer. The Pel file was extensive. It would be hours to   
just skim through it. He tapped his combadge. "Icheb to Naomi. I could use your   
help after all."  
  
#  
  
"Commander Chakotay," the Vulcan, Sakat said as they walked away from the other   
seven members of the Treflan council. "We wish to thank you and your captain for   
helping us."  
  
"You understand we can cure the plague, but at this moment, we can't do anything   
about the damage the plague caused. At least not without Borg technology to   
repair and regenerate the damaged limbs and skin. You must restore the   
regeneration chambers and stop ripping out of implants."  
  
Sakat shook his head, before responding. "We understand this all too well." He   
emphasized the word 'we'. "It is others who let fear rule them."  
  
"They have reason to fear the Collective," Cretia said. "Even Yersa thought this   
was true."  
  
"Yersa understands their fear," Sakat said quietly, "she wants them to move past   
their fears."  
  
"There is a real good reason for that fear," Cretia retorted.  
  
Chakotay listened carefully. It seemed to be an old discussion. "Have you tried   
reason? Perhaps even guidelines or laws?"  
  
"We have tried," Cretia said as she placed her hand on Chakotay's arm. "But   
Yersa is correct, we were forced to be Borg--some are leery of any rules."  
  
"Or anything Borg," Chakotay shuddered involuntarily. He took a step away from   
Cretia, her hand fell to her side. "And Yersa?"  
  
Cretia shook her head sadly. "Her eventual death will leave a void, many will   
try to fill. It's something the council has debated."  
  
"I understand. We can help you with saving your people, but we can't put   
together a government for you."  
  
Cretia frowned as she again placed a hand on his wrist. "Yersa and Sakat believe   
we cannot replace the control of the Collective with a dictatorship."  
  
"And what do you believe?" Chakotay asked.  
  
"We have to save ourselves. We must do what it takes." She held up both hands,   
showing the damaged fingers. "Look at this. This is no way to live."  
  
"There are many different beliefs," Sakat said, "As to what kind of government   
would work best. There are those who support a dictatorship and those who   
believe in anarchy. And even some who want to reactivate our neural links to   
create a common consciousness. They believe that only order and control will   
keep us alive."  
  
Chakotay grimaced at the memory the Vulcan's words produced. Riley Frazier had   
also believed that reestablishing the Collective link was the only way. He   
briefly wondered if they had found the order and peace she'd craved, or if the   
real Borg Collective had found them. He quickly pushed that memory away when   
Sakat motioned toward another an aisle.  
  
"And the greatest tragedy," Sakat said, "Is that we can't save ourselves." They   
started walking across a catwalk.  
  
Chakotay stared at the pile of corpses. Cretia turned away. "We couldn't save   
them," she whispered. "They're all dead. And we will be soon." She closed her   
eyes and started to cry. Chakotay hesitated, then placed an arm around her.   
  
"We'll do our best." Chakotay tried to keep the revulsion from his face as an   
unbidden thought entered his mind. They had to help these people survive.  
  
"And if you can't?" She whispered between her tears as she leaned against him.  
  
He pulled back quickly and removed his arm. She straightened up and looked at   
him. "I am sorry. I did not mean to cause you discomfort." Her voice was calm,   
but something caused him to take a step back.  
  
#  
  
B'Elanna snarled something in Klingon as she closed the link and turned to find   
the nearest victim. There was no one in sight. This brought another round of   
snarling. Her crew had learned during the past few months to disappear when she   
was in a bad mood.  
  
She was stuck on Voyager, having to listen to second-hand reports about progress   
from the Trefla. Carey was convinced that they could restore the central core.   
She reached for her combadge. "Torres to Carey."  
  
"Yes, Lieutenant?" There was perhaps the barest hint of annoyance in his voice.  
  
"Did you confirm that the primary circuit nodes are shut down?"  
  
"Yes, Lieutenant. Seven is here."  
  
"Very good. Torres out." She again closed the link. She knew she should be   
pleased with the competency of her crew. She tapped her combadge again.  
  
"Torres to Carey."  
  
"Lieutenant Carey here. Yes, Lieutenant, I have been able to download the data   
you requested."  
  
For some reason she laughed at his answer to her unasked question. "Thank you."  
  
"I'll transmit it to you when I have a chance."  
  
"Very good. I'll leave you to it."  
  
She imagined him muttering something about if she would stop contacting him, he   
would get some work done. She now had to sit in her office and wait for that   
information.  
  
"Ensign Vorik!" She stood slowly. "How are the recalibration tests going?"  
  
"They are progressing as expected," Vorik responded from the catwalk.  
  
She grabbed her PADD; her shift was over, and she was hungry. She started to   
walk toward the double doors. "I'll be in the mess hall." She had an urge for a   
leola root casserole. Or maybe even pickled leola root.  
  
Act 3  
  
Cretia slipped into the shadows at the sound of approaching footsteps. A second   
later two of the Trefla's former drones appeared. She pulled her hood over her   
head before stepping forward.  
  
"You contacted us," the lead ex-drone, Nelem said. The late Yith's assistant   
stood about half a meter taller than Cretia.  
  
"Yes, Voyager is using Borg technology to save us."  
  
The furious growl was exactly what she expected. "We can't let them use the   
tech. If we could capture their ship, those who wish to truly be free of all   
things Borg could escape."  
  
"I have studied their defenses. I have been able to scan their ship when we were   
testing the repairs. Here is the information you will need." Nelem reached out   
for the multiplex processor. Cretia smiled, then slipped back into the shadows.   
Nelem would do exactly what he needed to do. They would soon leave the Trefla   
and be free. And safe. Voyager would be the source of medical supplies, food,   
and the chance for a better life.  
  
Cretia smiled as she watched Nelem leave. And Nelem didn't need to know about   
the Borg tech incorporated into Voyager.  
  
#  
  
Harry smiled as his friend entered the mess hall, then waved. B'Elanna   
acknowledged his invitation then stared at the meal offerings. Harry was   
scheduled to beam over to the Trefla in an hour to relieve Lieutenant Carey.  
  
"This must be when she is calmer," Jenny Delaney said as she stopped at his   
table. "She isn't tearing my poor sister apart over the menu choices. I hear she   
has Joe doing some strange project on the Trefla."  
  
Harry smiled as he motioned for Jenny to sit. "Really? Most interesting." He was   
beginning to have a good idea exactly what B'Elanna's project was.  
  
"What's she working on? Somehow I don't think it's related to this Olympics of   
Neelix's."  
  
"Hope," he whispered. He spoke in his normal tone for the next sentence. "Did   
you hear they've postponed the games again?"  
  
She laughed. "Low supplies and..." Her voice grew more somber. "And now the   
Borg. We should never have gotten involved."  
  
"Jenny, you've seen the Trefla."  
  
She shook her head. "And we're not responsible. But I know..." They both glanced   
at the food counter. B'Elanna was arguing with Megan Delaney. "I'd better go   
help, or Megan will have me cleaning the floors."  
  
"Well, you are the one who volunteered to take Neelix's place today."  
  
"And I'll never complain about leola root stew again."  
  
"Maybe Neelix will find enough to make some. Just for you." Harry placed his   
fork on the tray. "Any ideas what happened to his supply?"  
  
"I hear Icheb was responsible." Jenny stood as he spoke.  
  
"That's what I've heard. I'm sorry, but..." Again they both looked toward the   
counter. "My sister will never make it without me." B'Elanna was still standing   
in the line.  
  
"I'll come with you." Harry was curious at why B'Elanna was holding up the line.  
  
"There's no leola root casserole," B'Elanna said when he stopped at her side. "I   
wanted leola root." Harry smiled as he remembered his older cousin's pregnancy   
years earlier.  
  
"Would a pickle do?"  
  
She grimaced. "Maybe I'll replicate a casserole." Harry shrugged at the next   
person in the line.  
  
"How's your project coming?" Harry asked her as they walked over to the   
replicator.  
  
"Icheb is trying to incorporate the Zornon data for the cloak. One leola root   
casserole." She growled the last to the replicator. "Least that's what he thinks   
he's doing." The dish shimmered into existence.  
  
"Not that one. I was helping him the other day. I mean Hope."  
  
"Harry, it's still just a dream."  
  
"But a good one."  
  
She motioned toward the port window. "Dreams can be tricky. We dreamed of   
freeing the Borg." She took a bite of the casserole. "Don't dream too much." She   
hesitated. "Take a look at the polymeric frequency of the Zornon cloak." She   
shoved her PADD over to him. He took it and looked at the data.  
  
"I don't see..."  
  
B'Elanna laughed. "Harry, Harry, Harry. It's obvious."  
  
Obvious to brilliant engineers maybe, but Harry didn't see anything significant.   
He scrolled through the series of formulas and calculations again.  
  
And again.  
  
#  
  
"Harry, I'm glad to see you," Joe Carey said. "I'm looking forward to a hot bath   
and a long nap."  
  
"So, is this before or after you talk to B'Elanna?"  
  
"Oh please, I've talked to her every hour all day." Carey rolled his eyes. "I've   
sent her every conceivable piece of data on all things Borg." He glanced about.   
"What is she working on?"  
  
"I don't know," Harry said cautiously. B'Elanna would tell when she was ready.  
  
"Harry, she's been asking about transwarp, transwarp coils, shielding,   
navigation. There's only one thing she could be working on."  
  
"Keep it to yourself, for the moment." Harry wondered how many of the crew had   
guessed what B'Elanna's project was.  
  
"So she has told you."  
  
Harry shook his heads. "No, but like you I've guessed. She's working on hope."   
He glanced around. "And what have you been working on?"  
  
"Right now we've started working on repairing the next bank of regenerators.   
Seven is working on the regeneration chambers. She requested to remain on the   
Trefla, instead of being relieved." Joe shrugged. "Stubborn woman. Good luck."  
  
"I hope I don't need it," Harry watched as Joe vanished, and turned his   
attention toward the Borg controls.  
  
#  
  
Seven glanced at her security guard then returned her attention to the data   
streaming into the primary console. She allowed herself a brief smile. The   
cube's diagnostic systems were once again working. Her frown returned as she   
noticed that there was still no response from Axum. She resent her message.   
"Crewman Brannon, once I am finished here, I shall be joining Lieutenant Kim in   
the central core."  
  
The guard nodded, as she continued speaking. "I need you to check the secondary   
processors when I restore power." She motioned toward another console about   
twenty meters away. "If the console activates, I shall have been successful."  
  
"Yes, Ma'am," he said, "And if you're not successful?"  
  
"Jump out of the way." Seven turned her attention back to the data, as she   
waited for the crewman to leave. She concentrated on the screen as she entered   
the information. The screen flickered. She grimaced, and this time she activated   
the secondary nodes.   
  
"It's working!" Brannon called.  
  
Seven tapped her combadge. "Seven to Lieutenant Kim, the secondary systems are   
now operational."  
  
"Very good," Kim's voice said. "That means we are now ready to activate the   
regenerators."  
  
She glanced at her console and entered a series of codes. She'd sent a message   
several hours ago to Axum. There was still no response to her message. With all   
the turmoil in the Collective, she shouldn't be surprised that Axum had not yet   
received her message.  
  
If he was even alive to receive it.  
  
#  
  
"Nanoprobes," Naomi said as she rubbed her eyes. They'd been at this for six   
hours and her eyes hurt.  
  
"Huh?" Icheb looked up from the report and stared at her.  
  
"Nanoprobes. Icheb, there is no choice. The Vidiians have a wealth of   
information on tissue grafts and regeneration techniques. But they all require   
donors and time. We can't do this without nanoprobes."  
  
"But the Treflans are not willing to use anything Borg."  
  
"Then it's their folly." She shut off her PADD. "There isn't anything in here we   
can use, morally, ethically, or otherwise. So, what about using nanoprobes?" she   
asked again.  
  
"We would have to convince them..."  
  
Naomi didn't understand why anyone would turn down the medicine that would save   
their lives--but that was exactly the problem. "So, we'll convince them."  
  
"It's not that easy. They are so terrified about being reassimilated they are   
destroying all things Borg. They fear that no matter how much we've modified the   
nanoprobes, the Queen could still regain control of their minds. We need to   
assure the Treflans that there is no way this can happen."  
  
"Like what you were trying to do with the virus?"  
  
He nodded slowly. "I suppose so. I was trying..." He leaned over and kissed her   
quickly on the cheek. "Naomi, you're a genius." He bolted out of the room.  
  
She stared at the closed door as she touched her cheek. "I'm a genius? Why   
thank-you."  
  
#   
  
Neelix stared at the cavernous space with a growing appreciation of just how big   
a Borg cube truly was. The cube once held over a hundred thousand drones and   
could easily have held more. Much more. And so much of it was no longer needed.  
  
"I do not understand why you wish to see this area?" Sarexa said.  
  
Neelix nodded. "It's perfect. It will take a lot of work on your part, but it is   
feasible."  
  
"What is?" Sarexa asked with a slow shake of her head.  
  
"The space. There is more than enough. I'm sure Captain Janeway will allow me to   
share our information on..." He shrugged. "But then you probably already have   
the information."  
  
"Neelix, you are not making any sense," Sarexa said.  
  
"Oh. I'm sorry, I guess I'm not. We can convert large spaces like this to   
airponic and hydroponic gardens. Like what we have on Voyager, only much   
larger." He entered a few more numbers into his PADD. "This space in particular   
can come close to supplying your basic needs within a year or maybe even less   
time. Leola root would be perfect..." A fast growing crop, rich in nutrients,   
and easy to care for, it would have been perfect, except his had mutated or   
something. They no longer grew well in his gardens. He once again considered   
asking Icheb help him correct the mutation.  
  
"I remember my mother's leola root pie," Sarexa said. "You have roots? Perhaps   
you can make me a pie?"  
  
"Do you remember her recipe?" Neelix asked. The few tubers he had left would   
barely be enough to boil down to make the filling.  
  
"No. I have very faint memories of home. I was captured quite young." She stared   
out at the cavern. "It will take a year for the gardens to grow?" she asked   
sadly.  
  
"Or less. You'll have to dismantle much of the unnecessary equipment. Most of it   
can be recycled into the garden--or rather farm."  
  
"I don't want to stay here a year. I don't want to stay on this ship any longer   
than I must. The scout sphere is functioning. There must be someplace I can go   
and be safe." She shivered. "This place scares me. The others want to destroy   
themselves and the ship. I don't want to die."  
  
"Captain Janeway won't let them destroy the cube," Neelix said confidently.  
  
"How? And once you leave us, what guarantees do we have?"  
  
"They will see reason." His confidence was shaken, as he again looked out over   
the cavern. The visions of rows of crops replaced by rows of dead Borg.   
"Especially once they understand that they can survive."  
  
"I wish I believed that, I wish I shared your optimism." She smiled at him.  
  
"I can ask Captain Janeway, if you want to stay on Voyager?" Neelix asked   
happily. Sarexa smiled at the suggestion, then shook her head.  
  
"And my friends?"  
  
"Friends?" His smiled wavered.  
  
"There are about fifty of us who want to leave the Trefla. Neelix, your ship is   
too small for us all." He felt his heart sink as she told him this.  
  
"We could find room. Voyager has several unused spaces we could convert to   
quarters." He wanted her to stay.  
  
"Neelix, your offer is tempting, but there is a scout sphere. It is locked down,   
and the controls damaged."  
  
"Perhaps Seven can help you access the sphere," he said helpfully, but sadly.  
  
"Your Borg?" She grimaced, then took a deep breath. "I think I can convince the   
others to accept her help." He watched her leave, then turned his attention back   
to the central cavern, forcing his mind to concentrate on how to construct the   
necessary supports and hydroponic tanks.  
  
#   
  
Kathryn glanced up from Chakotay's report and smiled at her first officer. "I   
want a complete report on the progress in repairs." It was perhaps the only   
bright spot of the sixteen hours they'd been assisting the Treflans. Chakotay   
nodded.  
  
"I'm beaming back over as soon as we finish here."  
  
"Excellent, Chakotay. Neelix is working with a group to create a series of   
gardens. He thinks those gardens will produce enough food to make them   
self-sufficient in a year."   
  
They both frowned as the door slid open, and Icheb ran into her ready room. He   
came to attention. "I have it, Captain! I know how we can cure them!"  
  
"Your exuberance is noted," Chakotay said with a smile. "Cadet Icheb, it is   
usually better to ask permission before bursting in. First year cadets learn   
appropriate protocol in dealing with senior officers."  
  
Janeway watched with interest. Tuvok had kept her informed of Naomi and Icheb's   
progress. But all things considered, odds were good that both would be officers   
before they returned home.  
  
"Oh. I'm sorry, sirs," he turned to leave.  
  
"Wait, Cadet. I can tell your information is important. What have you found?"   
Janeway said.  
  
The young man took a deep breath. "Actually, Naomi, Cadet Wildman, gave me the   
idea."  
  
"Naomi is a very astute young woman." She leaned back in her chair. "And this   
idea?"  
  
Icheb hesitated. "I know how to cure the Treflans. Captain, perhaps the Doctor   
should be here?" Kathryn quickly made the contact. She watched Icheb with a   
small smile. He was at that age where he still showed his enthusiasm--something   
she hoped he never lost.   
  
"So," Janeway said to fill the time as they waited for the Doctor. "How are your   
studies going?"  
  
"I have not had much time recently to study," Icheb said with a frown. "My time   
is better used in other endeavors." He relaxed slightly as the Doctor entered   
the room.  
  
"Captain, Commander, Icheb. Is there a problem?"  
  
"No, no," Janeway said. "Your protege has a plan."  
  
The Doctor turned to face Icheb. "Yes?"  
  
"I know the Treflans are leery of anything Borg, but the modified nanoprobes may   
be the most effective way to regenerate the tissues and organs damaged by their   
plague."  
  
"They won't allow it..."  
  
Icheb raised a hand. "We don't have much choice. While you can cure the disease,   
there is no way, outside of long series of treatments, to repair the damage. We   
have no choice but to convince them to let us do this. The nanoprobes I modified   
with my virus are effective in regenerating damaged tissue. Captain, may I?" He   
motioned toward her computer terminal. She nodded. "The virus that I had been   
working on."  
  
"The one that destroys the neural link completely." The Doctor looked thoughtful   
for several seconds. "It's the best idea anyone has had."  
  
"We could use the central processing unit to disseminate it," Icheb said. "But   
without regeneration units to pass it to the survivors, it will be time   
consuming."  
  
"Lieutenant Kim reports they have about a thousand regeneration chambers   
working. Cadet Icheb is correct, it would be the most effective way to   
administer the quantities needed." Janeway stood and joined the Doctor as Icheb   
made the changes to show how his virus-nanoprobe would work. Chakotay stood   
behind her, watching the images of nanoprobes on the screen. She shivered. Safe   
or not, she did understand why the Treflans feared them.  
  
"We would only need to inject a few special nanoprobes. The Treflan nanoprobes   
are basically inactive--the new ones would use the modified virus to reactivate   
them--to help with repair of damaged tissue." Icheb touched a few buttons, and   
the image shifted to show a damaged nanoprobe being repaired. "The neural links   
would be completely disengaged and eventually destroyed."  
  
"Thus alleviating their fears of reassimilation." Janeway nodded thoughtfully.   
"Commander, can you convince Yersa and others in the leadership?"  
  
"I don't know." She glanced at him quickly, wondering at his lack of enthusiasm   
in his answer.  
  
"The few introduced nanoprobes would use Borg technology in their bodies," Icheb   
said. "We wouldn't be introducing many. Maybe twenty-five, thirty per   
individual."  
  
"It's not the numbers involved," the Doctor said. "It's the Borg technology."  
  
"It's the only way," Icheb said. "The nanoprobes will save their lives.   
Eventually they will be able to safely remove those implants that remain."  
  
"Gentlemen, I believe we have a plan." She shook Icheb's hand. "Excellent work.   
How much time will you need?"  
  
"An hour," Icheb responded. "I have enough to do maybe a thousand at first.   
Captain," he stood straighter, "I volunteer to be the first patient."  
  
"No," Chakotay said. "It will have to be the Treflan leadership. They are   
paranoid enough over there." They all looked out the viewport at the damaged   
ship.  
  
"Commander, please notify the leadership," Kathryn said. "Icheb, Doctor, prepare   
what you need."  
  
"Aye, Captain," both the Doctor and Icheb said together.  
  
#  
  
Chakotay closed his eyes to adjust to the even greater darkness of the, what for   
a Borg, was considered a small room. He opened them slowly and located Cretia   
and the prone figure in the corner. He knew: they were too late. If only they'd   
had the answers sixteen hours ago.  
  
Cretia glanced up at Chakotay and smiled sadly. "She will be pleased you are   
here." She motioned with her head for him to join her. Doctor Miller and Sakat   
moved to join them as well.  
  
Chakotay crouched. "Yersa?"  
  
Yersa coughed violently. "Take care of my people..." The coughing drowned out   
anything else she was going to say. Eugenie Miller knelt beside him.  
  
"Yersa, please. Voyager's Doctor can save you. Commander Chakotay says they have   
a cure."  
  
"No time. It's more important to save the others."  
  
"Yersa, please." Miller closed her eyes. "Without you there is no chance."  
  
"No single person is that important," Yersa's voice faded. She reached out to   
touch Chakotay. "The spirit was right. You will take care of my people." The   
hand went limp.  
  
Sakat placed a hand on Dr. Miller's shoulder. "We need to proceed with the   
Commander's plan. Yersa wanted it this way."  
  
Cretia stood slowly. "But we can't let anyone know that she has died. It would   
be chaos."  
  
"Cretia's correct," Sakat said. "We need to continue as if she was alive."  
  
"Lie?" Chakotay stood quickly. "Yersa wouldn't want you to lie to your people."  
  
Dr. Miller shook her head. "It's not lying, we'll inform them after the   
treatment is complete."  
  
"A half truth is as bad as a lie," Chakotay retorted.  
  
"How would you know?" Cretia said angrily. "You don't understood the air of   
suspicion and fear here. You live on a healthy ship, with others you can trust."   
Cretia stormed out of the room.  
  
Sakat spoke quietly, "But what choice do we have? Your plan involves Borg   
technology. Without Yersa's authority, we will never convince the rest to go   
along, and it will all be for naught."  
  
"Commander Chakotay, Sakat and I agree that we must be the first to receive this   
treatment. To show that it is safe and that we will not become Borg again,"   
Miller said. "Come, we will make the announcement of the treatment."  
  
Chakotay shook his head, maybe they were right. The power struggle that would   
follow the announcement of Yersa's death would interfere with the cure. And   
possibly put Voyager's crew at risk. "Chakotay to Voyager, we are ready." A   
second later, Voyager's doctor and Icheb appeared in front of him.  
  
Voyager's doctor glanced around and saw Yersa's body lying on the floor. "I was   
afraid this would happen. We may have trouble convincing..."  
  
Chakotay interrupted angrily, "They aren't going to tell anyone until   
afterwards. Let's just get started." He walked out. He still was not convinced   
this was the best plan--but it was their ship, not his.  
  
"Commander!" Neelix shouted at him. "I have a request."  
  
Chakotay watched as the two Talaxians approached--leave it to Neelix to find the   
only Talaxian on the ship. He smiled as he realized Neelix's friend was female.   
"Neelix, what can I do for you?"  
  
"Commander, this Sarexa. She and about fifty others would like to take the   
scout-sphere and find a safe haven."  
  
"The Trefla will be safe. Icheb has found a cure..."  
  
"That is excellent news, Commander," Neelix said. Chakotay wondered why he   
didn't smile. "Sarexa, you really should..."  
  
"Is it Borg?" she asked.  
  
"Yes. It is a specially modified nanoprobe..." Chakotay started to say.  
  
"I don't want to be reassimilated."  
  
"Icheb has created a special nanoprobe that will break your neural link,"   
Chakotay said.  
  
Sarexa hesitated. Chakotay recognized her reluctance to use Borg technology. He   
started to say he understood that reluctance, but Neelix had the answer.  
  
"You wish to leave the Trefla so you can live free," Neelix whispered, "but why   
bother if you aren't willing to live?"  
  
"Yes," she whispered. "I will do it. Commander, the Scout Sphere?"  
  
"This is something that you really need to discuss with Sakat and Dr. Miller."  
  
Sarexa nodded. "Sakat has already given his permission."  
  
Act 4  
  
Seven was proud of Icheb as she watched him prepare the working regeneration   
chambers for use. He had come far--perhaps in some ways, further than she had.   
He had purpose, he made friends easier than she did. He belonged on Voyager. She   
turned and walked away, not caring that her constant shadow, Crewman Brannon,   
had returned to Voyager after falling and breaking his arm. His replacement had   
not yet arrived.  
  
She continued to worry that Axum had not responded to her message. She tried a   
couple of times from Voyager with no success. She'd hoped that the Trefla's Borg   
systems would be more effective. Was he still on the other end of the galaxy;   
had they settled...Was he even alive?  
  
She made her way to the scout sphere. She'd already determined that the access   
codes were intact and the ship unscathed.  
  
A soft thump stopped her.  
  
Seven turned to face the sound, her phaser drawn. Four ghastly looking   
individuals stood there. "What do you want?"  
  
"Borg," one hissed as he leaped forward. It didn't take much effort to avoid his   
attack; he collapsed behind her. She grabbed the second attacker, and twisted   
his arm. He sank to his knees, his face twisted in pain. The others backed away.  
  
"You attack me because of my implants?"  
  
"You are not purified, you are a threat to us."  
  
"I am not the danger--you are." She lifted him off the ground easily; he was too   
scrawny and sickly. "I am alive because of my Borg implants, you are weak and   
dying because you have rejected yours." She placed him gently on the ground. "Go   
to the medical bay and get some help."  
  
"They are using Borg medicine."  
  
"Because that is what will save your life." She looked at the other two   
attackers, the first attacker was still unconscious behind her. She started to   
kneel to check his pulse.  
  
"Death before assimilation," they cried and rushed her. She fired three times.   
The attackers fell to the floor.  
  
"Seven to Commander Chakotay."  
  
"Chakotay here. Seven?"  
  
"I have four to beam to the medical bay." She knelt beside them. "I was   
attacked, and despite using stun, two have died."  
  
"I understand. Lieutenant Ayala and a security team will be there. Chakotay   
out." The four vanished.  
  
Seven stood slowly, her hand rubbed her own ocular implant. Could they not   
realize that to be free of the Collective did not mean having to die?  
  
#   
  
"Commander?" Harry turned to face the commander, the regenerators forgotten at   
the grim look on the other's face.  
  
"Seven's been attacked," Chakotay said angrily. "She's fine, but she did kill   
two of her attackers. We're trying to help them..."  
  
Ayala's voice interrupted the conversation. "Commander, Seven is refusing to   
return to Voyager."  
  
"Damn," Chakotay growled. "Tell her..."  
  
"Commander Chakotay," Seven's voice said. "These are my people. I have to help   
them. I cannot help them if I am on Voyager. Please?"  
  
Harry wondered at Seven's almost plaintive plea, so did Chakotay, if the   
surprised expression on the Commander's face was any indication.  
  
"Never mind, I'll be right there." Chakotay glanced at Harry and motioned for   
him to follow. "I should force her to return to Voyager at phaserpoint."  
  
"That would be interesting."  
  
"I doubt it would be interesting..." Chakotay muttered. They both turned as a   
bright light splattered on the wall next to them. Harry had his phaser out, but   
neither man had a chance to return fire: they both collapsed as a white phaser   
blast hit them.  
  
#  
  
Seven glanced around, then looked at Lieutenant Ayala. "I wish to continue   
working until Commander Chakotay arrives." Ayala hesitated then nodded.  
  
"Go with her," he ordered the two guards with him.  
  
She didn't argue. At least she could continue helping.  
  
"Commander?" Ayala said into his combadge. When he repeated the word again, she   
stopped.  
  
"Is there a problem?"  
  
Ayala didn't answer. "Ayala to Commander Tuvok, I'm not able to contact   
Commander Chakotay."   
#  
  
"Welcome back, Commander," the Doctor said with a smile. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Like someone shot me."  
  
"That's not surprising, since someone did shoot you."  
  
"And Harry?"  
  
"Lieutenant Kim will make a complete recovery. So will you."  
  
"That is good. Doctor, I need to return to the Trefla." Chakotay rubbed his neck   
as he noticed the regulation sickbay blues he was wearing. "Where is my   
uniform?"  
  
The Doctor hesitated. "I am sorry Commander, but for the next three hours you   
and Lieutenant Kim are in isolation. Your clothes were destroyed. They were   
contaminated."  
  
"What happened?" Chakotay growled.  
  
"Someone jabbed their assimilation tubules into you and the lieutenant. You were   
both contaminated, but the bio-filters recognized the bacteria as being foreign.   
I want you under observation to make sure."  
  
"Damn them all..." Chakotay rubbed his neck angrily. He knew the skin had been   
regenerated, but he knew exactly where the tubules had been placed. The exact   
same place Riley had used.  
  
"It was just one, Commander. Lieutenant Tuvok and Captain Janeway are over there   
now trying to identify your attacker."  
  
"Damn, she shouldn't be allowed over there. Someone over there wants us dead. We   
can't trust them."  
  
"Commander, Commander Tuvok has already increased security onboard the Trefla.   
And speaking of the captain, she was most concerned about you." The Doctor   
motioned for Tom to approach. "Lieutenant Paris will sedate you if you cannot   
remain calm. It is only three hours."  
  
"Gee, thanks," Tom said. "Any chance I can be assigned to garbage disposal   
instead?"  
  
"Use that sedative on me, and you'll be in sickbay for the rest of our trip."   
Chakotay glanced over where Harry Kim. "How is he?"  
  
"He's taking advantage of his vacation and sleeping," Tom said with a smile.   
"He'll be fine."  
  
"At least let me have access to a computer." Tom glanced at the Doctor who   
nodded.  
  
"Sure thing, Commander. Would you like something to eat? The mess hall is   
closed: we can replicate some food for you, if you want?"  
  
"Water..."  
  
"Not the Antarian Cider?" Tom laughed when Chakotay glared at him.  
  
#  
  
Captain Janeway glared at the two security officers who stood before her. Three   
of her crew had been attacked within a few minutes of each other. All three had   
been beamed back to Voyager. Seven had gone reluctantly.  
  
Doctor Miller and Sakat stood behind her: it was painfully obvious that they   
were deeply disturbed by these events. "Captain," Ayala said, "our Doctor has   
managed to isolate the attacker's DNA from Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant   
Kim."  
  
"You understand, I want this person." Janeway turned to face Miller and Sakat.   
They nodded. "We'll imprison them for the duration of our stay. I don't want   
anymore such incidents."  
  
"We understand. I can't believe anyone would want to do this. You are trying to   
help us." Miller looked at the floor.  
  
"I can," Sakat said. "I worried that using Borg technology would anger someone.   
Illogical as that may be."  
  
She agreed with the illogic of the attack. She nodded when Commander Tuvok   
entered. "Commander?"  
  
"Captain. We have questioned Seven's attackers. One admits they were ordered to   
attack her by their leader."  
  
"Find this leader," Janeway said, her hands on her hips.  
  
"No one knows who the leader is."  
  
"I see. Do what you can. Maintain the increased security while our people are   
still here."  
  
"Understood, Captain," Tuvok said. He glanced at Dr. Miller. "We have analyzed   
the DNA recovered from Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Kim. The attacker was a   
human female. Dr. Miller's DNA does not match."  
  
"That is a relief," Miller said with a smile.   
  
Janeway turned to Commander Tuvok. "You believe the two attacks were related."  
  
"I have nothing to base that conclusion on," Tuvok said. "But considering the   
militant anti-Borg sentiment, yes I do. We are looking for members of these   
groups."  
  
"Commander, keep me informed."  
  
"Aye, Captain." Tuvok made a sharp about face and left. She started to speak,   
but Neelix's shout stopped her.  
  
"Captain," Neelix asked quietly. "How is the Commander?"  
  
"He has regained consciousness."  
  
Neelix sighed. "That is excellent news. And the cure? Will we still complete the   
treatments?"  
  
"Yes, of course." There were a number of 'buts' that Janeway thought of adding,   
but she left them unsaid. "We're ready to begin."  
  
"And we are ready." Miller glanced at Sakat. "We have survived the treatment for   
three hours. Our link to the others was very weak before the treatment. I could   
feel more than hear the thoughts of those nearby. Now I can't hear the thoughts   
of anyone." She smiled. "It's scary yet exhilarating."  
  
"It is pleasant to have my thoughts to myself," Sakat added.  
  
"We have lined up the first group of volunteers for the treatment." Dr. Miller   
smiled. Voyager's Doctor had started working with Miller in designing a protocol   
for replacing limbs, eyes, and other body parts destroyed in the deassimilation   
process, and those lost in the initial assimilation.  
  
"Sarexa and her group will be amongst the first to undergo the cure!" Neelix   
said after Sakat and Miller had left.  
  
Janeway nodded. Sarexa and her group's desire to leave the Trefla was greater   
than their fear of the Borg-tech cure. "That is good news."  
  
He looked away quickly, then smiled again. "Yes, it is. It is a symbol of hope."  
  
"Do they know where they are going?"  
  
"They passed an uninhabited planet six months ago. Sarexa says they will return   
there," Neelix said with a sigh. "I hear the Trefla may look for other liberated   
Borg. I don't know if they even know why."  
  
"We know they are out there," Janeway said. "Axum, Korok, and others. We've not   
heard from them."  
  
"Oh. I was hoping Axum had responded to Seven's message. She is very worried."  
  
"Seven sent a message?" She knew that once there had been more between Seven and   
Axum than simple friendship. Janeway wondered why Seven hadn't told her about   
trying to contact Axum.  
  
"She is curious how he is," Neelix said. He waved at someone, and his smile grew   
as a Talaxian female approached. "Captain, this is Sarexa."  
  
"Sarexa, I'm pleased to meet you."  
  
"Captain," Sarexa said as she took Neelix's hand. "Promise to stay with me while   
they do this." He smiled at her, then glanced at Janeway who nodded.  
  
Poor Neelix, she thought. He'd found the one Talaxian on this end of the galaxy,   
and she was leaving soon.  
  
#  
  
"Yersa's death just confirms what we have believed," Cretia said to Nelem and   
the small group of armed drones behind him. "We cannot allow the nanoprobes to   
be used on us."  
  
"She is now free of the Borg," Nelem said. "And now we must work to save   
ourselves. We have discussed your plan. It is a good one."  
  
"I know." She smiled. "Voyager has supplies, medical treatment, and working   
weapons. It will be enough to carry out our plans."  
  
"And we can use their medical facilities to create a treatment that doesn't   
involve Borg nanoprobes?" Nelem asked.  
  
She nodded as she studied the group of thirty. "We will have to use Borg   
technology to win the fight though."  
  
"We accept that. It is a small price to pay for our freedom from this place."   
Nelem glanced behind him. "I've picked the most healthy. They will have to   
transport the rest of us over when they have captured Voyager."  
  
"Excellent. The repairs to the transporters are complete. It is time to begin   
our plans!"  
  
"To freedom," Nelem said. The others repeated the phrase.  
  
#  
  
Seven waited in transporter room one. She'd wanted to beam over with the Captain   
and Commander Tuvok, but her request had been denied. She wanted...  
  
No, she needed to be over there. The Treflans had to be given every chance to   
survive. Like she had been. Captain Janeway had offered her a place on Voyager.   
A home.  
  
Yet, she felt restless. A year ago she would have been honored to accept   
Janeway's offer. Now she wasn't sure: maybe she felt she deserved better than a   
lieutenant's commission. Maybe she just didn't know where she fit in. Voyager   
was her home, but Voyager's destination was the Alpha Quadrant. Would the   
citizens there accept her?  
  
She glanced up as the lights blinked and Paris' voice filled the airwaves. "This   
is not a drill. Intruder alert on decks eleven and two. All hands, battle   
stations."  
  
Seven pulled out her phaser and bolted out the door. The lifts had been locked   
down, so she made her way to the nearest Jefferies tube.  
  
"Seven to the bridge, what is happening?"  
  
"Seven? I can barely hear you," Paris said. There were several crackles. "We   
believe thirty of the Treflans have beamed over. Half beamed to engineering, the   
other half are trying to storm the bridge." His voice faded out. She turned to   
face the sound behind her.  
  
"Voyager's resident Borg. Think you are safe here?" Cretia said. Her rifle was   
pointed at Seven.  
  
"I do not understand."  
  
"No, you wouldn't. So safe and cozy here. Do you have any idea what hell is   
being played out in the Collective?"  
  
"Yes, I do. You will not succeed in capturing Voyager."  
  
"That is exactly what we shall do. And with Voyager we can be free of all things   
Borg, and take our revenge on our enemies." Cretia started to cough.  
  
"And die. Without the cure, you will all die."  
  
"We will use Voyager's technology to save us. Here there are the resources..."  
  
"Resources 'tainted' with Borg technology. This ship is loaded with that   
technology."  
  
Cretia shrugged. "Then we'll remove it." She took a step forward. "How can you   
stand to look like that. Keep those...those metal things on your body, a   
constant reminder of how you've been violated. It's so Borg. You can never be   
free of the Collective."  
  
"This is who I am," Seven said. "It is who you are too." Seven held out her   
hand. "You do not need to do this."  
  
"Death over assimilation!" Seven rolled quickly as Cretia fired, and then fired   
back.  
  
#  
  
Janeway had just spent ten agonizing minutes not knowing what was happening on   
her ship. From Tom's initial report of the attack until just a moment ago, she   
and Commander Tuvok had been unable to return to Voyager, or even know what was   
happening. The ex-drones had been overwhelmed by her crew quickly with minimal   
damage to the ship, and the apparent ring-leader was dead. The danger was over,   
the attackers were to be returned to the Trefla. A few had even decided to   
undergo the treatment.  
  
"Cretia of all people," Dr. Miller said.  
  
"Cretia had been reluctant to undergo the treatment," Sakat said. "Perhaps that   
should have alerted us."  
  
"Perhaps, but she was not alone in that reluctance," Janeway said.  
  
"I never suspected her," Miller said sadly. "Captain Janeway, you and your crew   
have worked so hard to save us, yet we have tried to take your ship,"  
  
"It was not your fault," Janeway replied.  
  
"It is politic of you to be so understanding," Sakat said. "But we should have   
foreseen their actions. Their fear of Borg technology was well known."  
  
"You could not foresee this action," Janeway said. "Cadet Icheb has advised me   
that he now has enough nanoprobes to finish the job."  
  
"We have made a ship wide announcement and sent out emissaries. Many of us have   
hidden rather than risk being attacked." She glanced at Sakat. "We still have   
many problems to overcome."  
  
"Engineering is working on the replicators and energy supplies. Lieutenants Kim   
and Carey believe they will provide most of your needs. And Neelix has designed   
a series of hydroponic gardens."  
  
"Most of our needs," Miller said, "Do you know how hard it is for us to trade,   
let alone have a conversation with any ship or government?"  
  
"I can imagine. We've not had great luck either. Perhaps you can find a planet   
to settle on?"  
  
"It is an idea we have discussed. We've also discussed finding other freed Borg   
and uniting with them. Perhaps a world where freed drones can feel safe."  
  
"I understand. Word of Yersa's death is already spreading. Those who invaded our   
ship say that Cretia blamed the nanoprobes for Yersa's death. Cretia's DNA   
matches the samples taken from Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Kim. And we   
have learned she had been secretly supplying information to Nelem's group."  
  
"Cretia knew that Yersa never had a chance to be treated." Miller glanced at   
Sakat. "We have no choice but to tell our people. And the prisoners?"  
  
"We are willing to return them to the Trefla."  
  
"We will provide a secure area until you are safely away," Sakat answered  
  
  
Epilogue  
  
  
Janeway moved to stand next to Chakotay on the bridge of Voyager. "Open a   
channel," she said.  
  
"Channel open," Harry replied.  
  
"Voyager to the Trefla."  
  
"Trefla here. Captain Janeway, we wish to once more thank you and your crew for   
all you have done for us and endured." Dr. Miller appeared on the screen, a big   
smile on her face. Behind her stood Sakat. All that remained of the sores were   
some small scars. The EMH had left the specifics for replicating and using the   
nanoprobes to connect prosthetic devices.  
  
"And we wish you good luck." Janeway raised her right hand, fingers parted in   
the Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper."  
  
Miller smiled, "Thanks to you, we will. Farewell."  
  
The image vanished. "The Trefla is going to warp," Harry said. The transwarp   
coils had been too badly damaged to simply open a transwarp conduit." The ship   
vanished, leaving the smaller scout sphere. Another image appeared on the   
screen. Neelix stepped forward.  
  
"Sarexa," he said. "Good luck to you."  
  
"And you, Neelix. I shall remember you. You have a kind heart." Sarexa smiled.   
"Farewell, Captain Janeway, Commander Chakotay."  
  
Then they too vanished. The space around Voyager was devoid of any ships. After   
a second of silence, Janeway ordered that they resume course to the   
Alpha-Quadrant.  
  
"Captain, we're being hailed," Harry said. She could hear the puzzlement in his   
voice. "It's for Annika...Seven."  
#   
  
The Doctor stopped walking. Seven was talking with someone. He picked out the   
word 'Axum' and saw her smile.  
  
She so rarely smiled, he thought, that such moments were usually a wonder for   
him. He closed his eyes. Perhaps he'd been wrong to tinker with his programming   
over the years. He'd added things no hologram was supposed to know.  
  
Things like emotions. He'd felt guilt and remorse, and had several times asked   
permission to return his holomatrix to its original state. The Captain had   
refused.  
  
But watching Seven smile like that, caused a bittersweet ache he couldn't   
describe.  
  
"Doctor?" He shook his head to end his reverie. "Did you need to see me?" Seven   
was standing in front of him.  
  
"I just wondered if you had found your friend."  
  
"Axum is alive." Again she smiled at his name.  
  
"That is excellent news." He managed to maintain a neutral expression.  
  
"Yes, it is. His fleet is in the Delta Quadrant. They found a colony of former   
drones...Their colony is flourishing, but Axum does not like how they keep   
order. They helped repair his ships, but it is not the place he would like to   
have the former Borg live."  
  
The Doctor placed a hand on her shoulder, then quickly removed it. "They must   
decide for themselves..."  
  
"But how can they?" she asked angrily. "They are still too Borg. They have no   
free will!"  
  
He couldn't answer--she was right.  
  
"Excuse me, Doctor, if there is nothing else, I have a message for Commander   
Chakotay."  
  
#  
  
Chakotay smiled as B'Elanna entered his office. "Well, Lieutenant, your   
engineering department once again handled themselves professionally and   
competently."  
  
She smiled at him in return. "Thank you Chakotay. I'll let them know."  
  
"You know, they might have been even more efficient if you didn't contact them   
every few minutes."  
  
B'Elanna crossed her arms and stared at him. "I needed to be kept up-to-date,   
and since I was ordered to remain on Voyager...Anyway I only contacted them   
every hour or so. I have an idea for the transwarp." She shrugged. "The Trefla   
was too badly damaged to provide all the information I needed. It is a   
complicated plan. There is just too much that can go wrong--and we've had too   
many disappointments. I'd rather not tell anyone so no one is disappointed if it   
doesn't work."  
  
"Curious logic. You have Starfleet helping, perhaps it is time to have your   
shipmates help?"  
  
She shook her head vehemently. "No. At this moment, I don't even know exactly   
what I'm doing. When I have a better grasp what needs to be done..."  
  
"B'E, the rumor mill for the past three months has been very active. I'm sure   
most of them know."  
  
"I rather liked the rumor about creating a better coffee formula." He smiled at   
her attempt to change the subject.  
  
"So did I." The doorchime interrupted whatever else he planned to say. "Enter."  
  
Seven entered. "Commander, I have contacted Axum."  
  
"So I understood. How is he doing?"  
  
"They have been fighting. He wishes to find a safe place for his people. In his   
travels, he has met with many freed Borg." Seven hesitated. "He sent me a   
message for you. I have sent it to your terminal. Good afternoon, Commander."   
She turned and left.  
  
Chakotay glanced at B'Elanna who just shrugged. "What message would Axum have   
for me?" He pulled up the message.  
  
"Well?" B'Elanna asked.  
  
"It's not from Axum." He stared at screen, debating just hitting the delete   
button.  
  
"Should I go?" B'Elanna asked. He shook his head and activated the short   
message. B'Elanna moved to where she could see the image.  
  
Chakotay ended the recording with a disappointed sigh. He wasn't surprised at   
Riley and the New Cooperative's wait and see attitude. Let others do their   
fighting seemed to be what they were best at. He leaned back and glanced at   
B'Elanna. She shook her head.  
  
"Kahless! QamvIS Hegh qaq law' torvIS yIn qaq puS!"  
  
"What freedom? They may like living on their knees," Chakotay said. Riley and   
others decided that a mini Collective was better than the anarchy that had   
threatened to overwhelm them."  
  
"I still don't believe it."  
  
"Riley, Cretia..." He sighed. "She used me."  
  
"Cretia or Riley? Or both?" B'Elanna asked. "Cretia decided that having power   
was more important than life. Riley wanted order. They both did whatever it took   
to reach those ends."  
  
He shrugged in frustration.  
  
"Chakotay, she used all of us." B'Elanna grinned at him. "You should watch out   
for blonde former Borg."  
  
  
  
  
  
Next: Colonization 101 by Julie.   
It's time once again for the annual Emergency Procedures Drill, and this year   
it's the doctor's turn to devise the scenario! 


End file.
